I've Come to Be the Stranger That You Keep
by errantry
Summary: Sebastian Moran lives a quiet existence at the far edge of town, one day he finds a man in the woods and everything changes. Set somewhere between 1920-1930.


The end of this story leads up to the beginning of _Got What I Need_. I wrote how Sebastian "loved James as much as Cas loves Sam" and decided to expand, hardcore MorMor shipping helped. And for the sake of the plot lets say that Sebastian changed his surname after all the events in the story, Jim called him "Mr. Moran", and hearing it brings up too many emotions.

Craig Parkinson will FOREVER be Moran in my head

* * *

Sebastian Moran was raised in a small two bedroom house, that seemed to always be filled with hostility. His mother was a baker with long blonde hair that shone bright in the summer. His father was a short man that wore rings on his fingers, frequented the pub, and taught Sebastian rough discipline when he was just a young boy. Sebastian became quite close friends with the back of his father's hand, without really knowing why. Through his eyes he was doing everything fine, never got into fights, always did his chores, but his father seemed to view him as some sort of demon. The look he would get in his eyes, rouse a constant fear inside Sebastian. He didn't know what he was doing wrong. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong. To this day he assumed his father enjoyed hitting him, or maybe it just became a routine.

It became harder for him to allow the beatings to continue, especially as a teenager. His limbs started growing at fifteen and never stopped until he hit 6'4. He was finally bigger than his father, but never had any intention of fighting back. One day Sebastian merely pushed his father without much force, just to make him stop screaming and throwing punches. The day after, as he returned from his job cleaning tables at the pub, he found all of his stuff on the doorstep. He pleaded with his mother through the window to allow him to stay and to kick his father out, she just stared out at him with tears in her eyes and eventually closed the shutters. He sat down in the backyard, back against the cold, grey stone of the house. He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke swirl up against the dark blue sky. Sadness and abandonment overtook him in a wave, he would soon realize the gift his parents had given him, though. The gift of freedom.

Sebastian eventually found his way to a tiny one bedroom house, away from the noise of the town. It was old, the floor creaked with every step but it was his. His own space where he was free to read and do whatever he wanted in safe seclusion. But sometimes the seclusion became too great and Sebastian yearned for another face to look at. He developed cravings for odd things, a small cafe quite a distance from his home was a particular. He craved to sit in the corner near the window and watch the strangers stride past, to glance at all the lives he'll never know. A craving for the scent of the elderly man's after shave that sat at the counter or the pretty waitresses' perfume that smelled of what he assumed Paris boutiques must smell of. And the men, oh, the men with their long coats and broad jawlines. How they would flirt with the waitresses in a hushed manner, voices deep and breathy, how their voice would make Sebastian's stomach tighten with a need for intimacy that may never be satisfied.

He never spent too much time in town. Being out the world brought a certain sadness. The sadness wasn't brought on by him being alone right there in a shop but because he didn't have anyone to go home to. The knowledge that he could spend hours away from home and no one would be there to welcome him back or ask where he's been made him quite deeply depressed. Depression never went away, really, it was just ordinary now. Accustom. It was simply the sadness that had followed him from his childhood to now, and will continue to follow him, only sometimes to be masked with happiness for a few seconds, then it swallows him up again.

* * *

One day everything altered. The day began normally, Sebastian watched the sun rise from his porch as he sipped coffee, his gaze fixed on the treeline. Something seemed to call out to him, an unknown force reeling him in. He began walking through the trees, his shotgun resting against his shoulder, a book under his arm. The sun shone big and bright up in the cloudless sky, it brightened the green leaves, giving them a shimmering edge. The tree branches seemed to sparkle as they covered up the giant ball of light. It was quiet in the woods. A calmness always resides deep within the forest of trees, where everything is pure and natural. Untouched. The world outside seems to be a loud and distant realm, a place where Sebastian feels he doesn't belong. The anger that is so common in the endless streets of cities, the lack of kindness, arises a feeling inside of him. A feeling of remembrance. It reminds him of his childhood, a time that should have been so simple. And it hurts to think found his usual relaxing place beside the pond. He set down his shotgun and let his suspenders fall against his legs. He laid on his back and opened his book. It didn't take long for the birds' singing to make him drowsy. His eyes drifted shut and he listened to their song.

It was afternoon when his eyes opened again, he sat up and stretched. He was satisfied for being able to sleep a few hours after not having been for a few days, maybe the change of space is what he needed. He rubbed his eyes before getting up, the birds were quiet, there was not an ounce of rustling from the wood. He was halfway back home when he stopped abruptly and ducked next to a tree.

There was a figure. A man with his head hung down, one arm outstretched, hand palm side down against a tree in an effort to steady himself. Sebastian stood in silence, hand sliding down the shotgun at his side and gripping it. He took a few slow steps forward. Thick silence engulfed the woods, the only sound was the stranger's heavy breathing. Blood trickled down from the man's palm to his fingertips and dripped onto the dirt underfoot. They stood there for a while. Sebastian watching. The stranger breathing. Sebastian moved closer and, as if on cue, the man collapsed, his shoulder hitting the tree. Hard. The man then tumbled forward, landing face first against the dirt. Sebastian's heart began beating rapidly, it rose in his throat and froze him with fear for a few seconds. He only registered what he was doing when he turned the man over and heard him say what sounded like "don't". There was a cut on his forehead that ran from his hairline to his left eyebrow, the harsh smear of blood made Sebastian wince with sudden empathy. His clothes were ragged, torn, and filthy. His dark hair greasy. Eyes sunk in with fatigue. Sebastian picked him up with surprising ease and carried him the rest of the way to his house, abandoning his novel in the process.

Blood fell in droplets onto the hardwood of Sebastian's floor, creating a trail from the front door all the way to his bedroom where the man now lie. Sebastian's foot tapped in impatience as water from the bathroom sink slowly filled up a small basin. He heard the man groan as he crossed the threshold into his bedroom. The man's breathing began slowing underneath Sebastian's fingertips as he unbuttoned the torn shirt that covered his torso. The slow peel of fabric from sweat soaked skin revealed a long cut on the man's stomach. Sebastian dipped a towel into the metal basin next to his foot, he slowly cleaned the blood that stained the man's left side, dipping the cloth back into the water with every other stroke. He brushed the man's dark hair back and wiped the blood from his forehead, biting his lip in concentration. At last he attended to the man's hand, the long gash on his palm. His hand was small compared to Sebastian's, who cradled it as he washed away the blood. He found himself glancing at the man's face, afraid he'd awaken. He never did. Sebastian took note that he didn't seem to be in any pain at all, his face serene as he slept. As he gazed, Sebastian took into account the events that had just occurred and his actions. What would he do now? The choice to not leave this man in the woods will raise consequences, both good and bad, and soften Sebastian more so than he is already. He reached out his hand and traced a finger over one of the man's thin eyebrows, then trailed down his jaw. The prickling of stubble, the feel of skin that isn't his own, made him feel connected again. Connected to the world of strangers he often peered into, the human contact he lusted after. What should he do now?

* * *

The sun was rising over the trees, casting a long beam directly into the bedroom, outlining the bed with a soft glow. There was a clatter of pans from the kitchen that eased Jim gently from his sleep. He shifted his head on the pillow slightly, curled his hands around the blankets and pulled them up toward his ears. Pain from his hand and head brought him back to full consciousness, seconds later the dread set in. His eyes blinked against the sunlight as he looked around the tiny room. His wallet lay on the end table beside the bed, along with a glass of water. He felt confused. The bed he was in was clean, his hand was bandaged as was his stomach, it was quiet save from small noises from the kitchen. Jim's hands shook as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, metal bed frame squeaking with the shift of weight. He pulled on his boots that were left adjacent to the bed, grabbed his wallet off of the table and glanced at the cup of water. Only then did he feel the pain of thirst, the dryness of his throat and the metal taste of blood that lingered in his mouth. He gulped down the water in seconds, carefully putting the glass back down as to not make any noise. He climbed out of the tiny window, landed on his hands and knees outside and took off running.

Sebastian was standing in the kitchen hovering over the sink, peeling potatoes slowly. He was humming, foot tapping against the floor, hips moving occasionally to the rhythm. The sun was casting its light onto his hands as he peeled, the birds sang their morning song through the window in front of him. He glanced up for a second, long enough to see a short figure moving quickly toward the forest. The cigarette that hung between his lips fell into the sink and he dashed through the front door. "Hey!" He called after Jim. "Mr. Moriarty!" Jim only glanced over his shoulder, registering that Sebastian was gaining on him. "Stop! I want to help you!" Jim stumbled, losing his footing and falling. Seb quickly caught up, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. Jim shrugged him off and stared at him with fear in his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't need help," Jim said, his voice raised, hands still shaking. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sebastian. Sebastian Moran. Come on, at least have something to eat. Then

you can go, just let me have the knowledge that you're well fed."

"But you'll call them, won't you?" Jim said nervously. Sebastian exhaled, his eyes shifted, and he stepped closer.

"I won't call them." He laid a hand on Jim's boney shoulder. "I promise."

The kitchen was silent. Jim was warm, the heat of the fire that crackled in the living room warming and making him drowsy. Sebastian finished cooking and served him, allowing Jim to start eating first before he began. Nervous glances were exchanged, nervousness mostly coming from Jim, Sebastian, on the other hand was simply afraid that the other man would suddenly leap up and make a run for it yet again. He never did. The sound of his foot tapping under the table slowly subsided as the silent meal went on. Mid-morning turned to afternoon, it began to rain, slowly the droplets tapped against the window panes. Jim began having difficulty keeping his eyes open. The weakness of having not eaten in days subdued by Sebastian's nourishing meal. He hunched over, resting his elbows on the table and forcing his head to stay up. "Thank you, Mr. Moran." He said slowly.

"Of course. Now tell me, why were you in the woods?" Jim leaned his head against his left hand and exhaled sharply.

"Trying to get away. Done a pretty good job so far."

"You think they're after you?" Sebastian leaned back in his chair, thankful for the easiness of the conversation.

"Yes, I know they're after me." Jim yawned, his eyes hooded when he looked at Sebastian. "I don't think they'll bother all the way out here, though. They took out entire villages... One man running away wouldn't cause too much concern."

"What village are you from?"

"I don't want to talk about that." Jim said quickly. He yawned again. Sebastian directed him into the living room and sat him on the couch.

"Relax, now. You don't have to worry about anything." Sebastian watched Jim's head fall back against the couch as he moved to clean up the dining table. How easily the words flow out of his mouth. In any other situation he would be stumbling, thoughts coming too quickly, his mouth not keeping up. Another person, at last. Contact after so many long years of lonesome solitude. Sebastian hoped he would stay, hoped he would talk of the things that happened to him. "Mr. Moran?" He walked over and sat on the edge of the couch and looked at Jim.

"Why are you taking care of a stranger?"

"You're not a stranger, you're a person. And you need help. I won't deny you that." Sebastian left to get a blanket and when he returned Jim was fast asleep on the couch. The man in front of him seemed to hold the most unimaginable amount of pain, this knowledge brought a sadness, an aching, a wanting, to Sebastian. All he wanted to do was crack him open, to have knowledge that someone else felt as much pain and ache as he did.

As the rain subsided, the sun peaked through the clouds once again, shining it's rays through the window and onto Jim's face. It illuminated his sharp features with an eerie, yellow-tinted glow. His face looked pained but calm as Sebastian covered him with a blanket. He exhaled in subconscious comfort, angling his head differently on the arm of the couch. Sebastian sat down at the kitchen table, lit a cigarette and stared down at an open journal he had brought from his bedroom.

* * *

What an odd feeling it is to have someone else in your house. A different atmosphere shifted the air. It felt harder to breathe, Sebastian turned his head and caught the draft that came in through the open window behind him. He felt needed. That was a good feeling, one he's never felt before. Maybe the need would turn to want.

Sebastian got up, then, to wash his face in the bathroom. Chilled tap water pooled in his hands, splashes up and licks his face. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the small mirror and stops. The dark circles from many sleepless nights are nothing new, but they are of a different shade, brought on by an altogether different reason. His neck aches from his attempt to sleep on a couch he's much too big to fit on. It was strange because he was happy for a new exhaustion. Happy to have this man's burden on his shoulders, to have to keep something so fragile a secret.

* * *

The day was warm, sun heating Sebastian's back. He perched on the edge of the porch banister, a book in his hands. A few weeks had passed since he'd found Jim, he was still a stranger. Still keeping everything a secret. But it was nice. It was easy. He heard the door creak open slowly. Jim yawned and stood in the doorway. "Cigarette," he mumbled as he stretched.

"Come out here." Jim peered out nervously, noting how the bright sunlight caught Sebastian's hair, colouring it a shade of gold that is so very pleasing to the eye. "It's alright." He stepped out of the house tentatively, feet bare, padding against the wood as he walked over to Sebastian. "Are you going to tell me about yourself today?" It was a daily battle trying to get him to talk but Sebastian didn't try too hard in fear that he might run off again.

"No." Jim smiled, taking the cigarette that Sebastian offered him. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow. Sure." Jim wore the ragged slacks he had on that first day and one of Sebastian's cotton button ups that was too large for him, one sleeve kept sliding down his arm, exposing his pale collarbone. He stopped trying to keep it up after a while. Sebastian drew the light from his pocket, Jim moved closer on the banister and caught the flame at the end of his cigarette. His eyes flickered up as he inhaled and caught that Sebastian was watching him, his cheeks flushed pink. And Sebastian wanted him.

"What's the plan for today? Jim asked.

"I was going to get you some fitting clothes," he pulled the sleeve of Jim's shirt back up his shoulder, fingers grazing smooth, sun-warmed flesh.

"Y-you don't have to," Jim stammered, voice low. They shared a gaze until Sebastian drew back his hand. The skin of their cheeks a dull pink.

"I have to go into town anyway. I'm...we're out of coffee, I need to pick up something different for dinner, you have to be sick of potatoes."

"I like potatoes. The way you cook them, anyway."

"Do other people cook potatoes a different way than boiling them?"

"No...you know what I mean," Jim bumped his shoulder playfully against Sebastian's. Jim crushed out his cigarette as Sebastian closed his book. "You know, I'm really appreciative of everything you're doing."

"I know."

"No, really." Jim moved in front of him, arms outstretched, he encircled them around Sebastian's torso. He was taken aback by the sudden warmth of Jim's body against him, his body heat was warmer than the sun. "I don't know what would have happened to me." Jim's voice was muffled against Sebastian's chest, but the pain around his words audible. "Thank you." Sebastian ran one hand up and down Jim's back as the other squeezed him tightly.

"It's all okay now. Stay here as long as you need to." It was easy for Sebastian to provide the comfort that he had always been deprived if. The hugs that should have been received from his parents... He always thought he should be cold and closed off. Here he was building a bridge to a stranger that so desperately needed him. After such a short time he already felt something for him, something more than the need to help another living creature.

They parted and looked at each other, Sebastian's hands resting on Jim's shoulders. Jim was trying so hard to hold back his tears but one escaped and rolled down his cheek. Sebastian wiped it away with his thumb. "Go inside and put the kettle on," he said gently. "I'll be back in no time at all." Jim nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on Sebastian's eyes, though it flickered between them and his mouth. His hands still cradled Jim's jaw and the other slid up and caught his cheek. Sebastian angled his head down as Jim tilted his up. Their lips met cautiously, Sebastian slowly enveloped the other man's mouth. Jim's breath hitched at the sensation of another man's soft pliant mouth against his own. How Sebastian kissed him with such delicacy, as if he would break under his fingertips. Another tear rolled down his cheek and touched Sebastian's hand. The feeling of no longer being afraid made Jim's body react in such an odd way. His heart beat quicker but not from fear. From worry. Worry of what Sebastian might think of him when he finally tells him everything. But Sebastian has no intention of ever letting him go. Not now. Not after this.

* * *

Sebastian's absence always left an eeriness in the house. Too much quietness filled it's old rooms without his footsteps creaking the floorboards. Jim made use of the time alone by washing the dishes that littered the sink, gazing out of the window as he dried them. He makes the bed, guilt riddling him, Sebastian _insists_ he have the bed but Jim always feels terrible when he watches the other man rub his neck at the breakfast table. "We can always share the bed." Jim tells him most mornings but nothing would convince him, not until much later, anyway.

Sebastian found him asleep on the couch one day, a book resting on his chest. He jumped when the front door squeaked open, the familiar anxiety filled him rather quickly. The usual constant feeling in his chest only to sometimes be abated by Sebastian's presence. The sense of calm would quickly dispel, Jim knew that if or when the time comes, Sebastian won't be able to protect him. Even though he desperately needs to be protected, to be nurtured, to feel like a human again rather than a hunted animal.

He felt almost normal inside the house. It almost felt like he wasn't hiding. Sebastian didn't make him feel that way, Jim wasn't a secret in his eyes. He was more of a gift that happened to land on Sebastian's lap. Jim had begun restoring the light inside of him without really trying. Another presence in the lonely house withdrew the darkness, changed the somber shades of the walls to something brighter.

"The other day you were complaining about wanting something sweet right?" Sebastian asked as he laid out the groceries on the wooden table.

"Yes!" Jim answered excitedly, he peered into the brown paper bag.

"No peeking!" Sebastian snatched away the bag. "This is going on top of the refrigerator where you can't reach it."

"So I don't spoil my dinner?"

"Exactly." After a long silence Jim abruptly began speaking

"I was living with my parents before all of this. We owned a bookshop, there was an old printing press in the back and everything. When I was little I used to sit at the counter next to my father and he would give me a different book to read every week." He laughed a little. "He was so tall. You remind me of him. He would hover over me sometimes and read the passage on the page, so close I could smell his aftershave. My mum always cooked, and she worried. You remind me of her, too, you know." Jim leaned his hip against the counter close to Sebastian, watching his hands cut the potatoes. "When you chased after me and made me eat breakfast that morning, I saw her. When I got my own job she used to run after me in the morning with a sandwich for lunch." Sebastian smiled at him and he moved to sit at the table. He began recounting the events that happened prior to Sebastian finding him, eyes welling with his first words. So much pain in his voice made Sebastian stop what he was doing and turn to listen.

* * *

_Jim was stocking in the attic of the cafe, his hands shaking slightly as he repeatedly lifted pounds of flour and dropped them onto the shelves. He sang lowly as he worked, tapping the beat with his foot. When he was finished he wiped his hands on his slacks, his foot creaked on the stairs but the sound of shouting stopped him from descending down them. He watched through the tiny window with freshly built anxiety risen in his throat._

_ The townspeople were lined up on the cobblestone street. Men with their hats in their hands, chins raised, hiding their swelling terror. Women clutching the children at their sides, tears streaking their elegant faces. And the soldiers. They all stood in front of them. Darkness hung above the blood stained men, a cloud of anguish following their every move. _

_ Jim cowered on the dusty floor, legs shaking as he crouched. He caught sight of his mother at the far end of the line, then the gunfire started. He stifled a scream, eyes welling with tears as the terrifying scene unfolded before him. More people came out from hiding as the bodies fell to the ground, their screams piercing. Jim dragged himself down through the cafe and stopped at the open door._

_ There was a second where he thought of just walking out and allowing himself to be killed. Death seemed to be calling him forth. A shot was fired close to him, the haze in his eyes and brain focused as blood splattered his face and clothes. He caught a glimpse of the blood that ran from the mass of bodies, it almost seeped through the cobblestone. He recoiled back into the cafe quickly, stumbling over furniture to get to the back door. The building stood feet from the woods, many yards beyond that stood a tiny town that had been taken but without bloodshed._

_ He ran for days, hardly allowing himself time to rest. He stumbled, scraping his flesh, deep. He dragged himself farther than he ever thought possible. When he felt as if everything in his body would fail at any moment, he stopped. Felt blood running from his palm, the ache of hunger, the burning swell of thirst, the world beginning to blacken around him. When a rustle of leaves sounded behind him he knew it was the end. The game of running was over._

* * *

Sebastian hugged him as he wept, cradled Jim's head in his hand, smoothing his soft dark hair. "I saw her. I saw them kill her, Seb," Jim said against his chest. "Her eyes were still open." Sebastian sat him down, hand holding onto his arm. "I dream about it every night." Sebastian didn't possess the words to explain how sorry he was.

"I can't imagine, James, I can't..." He wished Jim could just give him all the pain. He wanted to lift it from his soul. Knowing that Jim would live with this for the rest of his life made Sebastian's chest ache.

It took a few hours for him to calm down. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Sebastian's long legs on either side of Jim's. Moans of approval escaped Jim as he ate the cake Sebastian had bought in town, the other man simply smiled at him and sipped his tea.

The fire crackled and warmed them on this chilled summer night. Jim placed his plate onto the tiny end table behind him. "That was better than sex."

"We'll see about that," Sebastian mumbled, Jim slapped his leg and crawled over to him and he laid down, his back pressed against the taller man's chest. "Keats?"

"Yes, please." Sebastian opened a volume and began reciting _Bright Star_, Jim was asleep by the end. He set down the book, encircled his arm around Jim's shoulders and drifted off as well.

* * *

The nightmares never ceased lest he was in Sebastian's arms, which became a normal occurrence quite quickly. Sometimes Jim was even afraid to open his eyes, fearful that someone would be standing over him, ready to take him. He woke one night gasping for air, image of his mother glued to the back of his eyelids. He got up and gulped down a glass of water. Sweat from his forehead ran over his thin eyebrows, he wiped it away and stared out of the window. "Seb?" Jim tapped his fingers against the door of the bathroom after he exited the kitchen, the smell of cigarette smoke seeped through the cracks of the wooden door.

"Come in." He lie in the bathtub, a cigarette between his lips and shaving cream on his face. "Can't sleep?"

"No, you?"

"Hardly can. Another nightmare?" Jim watched him struggle to hold up a small mirror and attempt not to cut himself.

"Yeah. Here, let me." Jim took the razor from his hand and stole the cigarette from his lips. Sebastian tilted his head back against the tub, rested his arms on the sides, and let his eyes fall shut. The razor ran up his neck slowly, curving around his jaw and glided over his cheek.

"Never had anyone shave my face before," he said.

"Get used to it." Jim felt the quickening pulse under his fingertips as he finished. He ran his hands over Sebastian's face, ensuring that it was smooth. The other man opened his eyes in time to see Jim lean over and press his mouth against his.

* * *

The day was bright and the way the sun peeked through the trees reminded Sebastian of the day he'd found James. Reminded him of his life before he had found his stranger. The bleakness of his previous existence was a distant, fleeting memory. It almost felt like a dream, a life he had never once lived.

That was the power Jim had, to make him forget everything. A way of lifting woes and replacing them with happiness. Sebastian did the same to him as well. Jim began to feel okay. The pain was subsiding slowly. He began feeling like nothing bad would happen, that they could live together and love one another without the feeling of impending doom. He felt as if he would never experience such pain again and he wouldn't be plagued with horrible dreams and constant anxiety. He felt protected. And at ease.

They strolled hand in hand through the forest of trees, Sebastian leading them to the pond. It was so calm. The stillness was almost eerie, Jim's hands nearly shook with the thought of someone coming through the woods and finding them. That thought was almost always in his mind when he stepped off the house's porch. What might he do if they found him? Would he go willingly? His heart told him that they wouldn't be able to rip him from Sebastian without a fight. Perhaps if the time came they would both run. How he dwelled on the thought endlessly.

Jim stared blankly across the pond at the line of trees. He stared for so long that his mind began tricking him. He tensed when he thought he saw a figure moving past the trunks of the tall trees but he would never tear his eyes away. "I love you." He heard the other man say, his gaze broke and transfixed on Sebastian's face. He had been studying Jim and he hardly noticed that he'd closed his book or that his arm was around Jim's shoulders. The warmth of Sebastian's body heated him quickly as he focused his attention.

"You do?"

"Yes, very much." Jim studied Sebastian's face, his hair was smoothed back with precision and he hadn't shaved. He looked worried, as he always did, but happy. Jim could hear the truth in his words, could feel it. The dark circles had lifted from his eyes long ago, all because of Jim.

"Do you think it'll end? Will we ever be able to live normally?"

"Is how we live now so bad?"

"No, but it just doesn't feel like we'll ever get to go into town together or travel or anything. What if we'll waste our lives? There's so much _more_ you could be doing."

"I don't want to do anything else. It's not worth doing anything if you're not with me. You don't know what you're doing to me, James. I'd do anything, _anything_, to keep you with me. Even now, I'm risking it all because I _love_ you. I like this life, I don't mind the risk."

"I love you, Mr. Moran."

* * *

There's no simple way to describe the fear that they both felt the next morning. A knock sounded at the front door and they both bolted upright. Jim immediately began trembling, tears rolling down his face as he watched Sebastian peak out of the front window. Everything they had been dreading was now standing on the porch. "Run, James. Now." Sebastian ordered as they pulled on their clothes.

"Not without you." Jim pleaded, gripping the man's shoulders.

"Just go, I'll come find you when they leave. I promise. I love you."

"I love you, Seb." He watched Jim climb out of the window and dash toward the trees. Another knock boomed on the door as he slowly made his way over to it. He faked a yawn as it creaked open.

"Ah, good morning, sir. Sorry to disturb. We're investigation certain...escapees, if you will, from a few towns over." An older man in uniform explained. Sebastian tried his best to seem bewildered. "We've been on hot pursuit for a few months, seems he, they, could have come as far as here. We're taking the pleasure of looking around your property, the woods you have back there, you know, mandatory stuff." Sebastian calmed his shaking hands as he caught sight of a few armed men over the man's shoulder. _This has to be a dream._ "You understand. Mind if I take a look inside?"

"Of course, come in." Sebastian made room for the man to enter. He watched him search the house peculiarly, stretching his neck up to look at the ceiling and stooping down to inspect the floorboards.

"You have a basement or an attic, young man?"

"Just the one floor, sir." In the silence that followed a single shot was heard far off in the distance. A pain rippled through Sebastian's entire body as he winced, he held onto the edge of kitchen table, forcing his knees to keep his body up. The events after that sound blurred together. His world grew noiseless. He didn't go out and search for him after the men left because he _knew_. His heart was connected to Jim's and it felt like it had been ripped out. He felt as if he had died as well. A part of him did. A huge part. The sun went down and Sebastian found himself on the floor, no recollection as to how much time had passed. His head leaned back against the wood and he listened. Listened for his footsteps. This became a ritual.

As time passed he forgot what a good night's sleep was. Or how food tasted. The world around him was darker than it ever was. He grew thin and tired. He felt old, and decayed. The part of himself that had once held hope withered away with the echoing of that single shot all those days ago. There was no point anymore. Not a single reason to exist. The coldest chill rippled through his body one day, he got off of the floor and stepped onto the porch. The light stung his eyes fiercely and they took a long while to focus. Seconds before he was going to turn and pick up the shotgun on the floor, something caught his eye.

Sebastian saw him standing there. Not bloody, beaten, or ragged, he was smiling at him. Light cast down onto his face and for a moment Sebastian remembered happiness, remembered how he felt. How alive Jim made him feel and that thought wasn't followed by sadness but it left a glimmer of something bright inside of him. As Jim's figure faded, two worn men replaced his figure. It was Jim that led them there. He was leading purpose back into Sebastian's life.

Everything was going to change again.


End file.
